


Your Type Of Metal

by Thrilliero



Category: MCR - Fandom, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Always a girl frank, Artist!Gerard - Freeform, F/M, Frerard, Girl!Frank - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-12
Updated: 2015-05-21
Packaged: 2018-03-22 10:51:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3726034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thrilliero/pseuds/Thrilliero
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Title from "No Shows" by Gerard Way </p><p>Gerard wasn't into the random cool punk drunk girl who had passed out in his arms, she was batshit crazy for one and who said she even liked him back? There was no way, Gerard wasn't that lucky. </p><p>Ft. Always a Girl Frankie and cripplingly awkward, Artist Gerard.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Long Haul

Okay, if Mikey didn't stop talking soon Gerard was gonna loose his shit. He'd been trying to get off the phone with him for the better part of an hour but he wouldn't stop talking about how funny this one thing Ray had said was, or maybe it was about a dream he had? Honestly, Gerard didn't know, and he really didn't fucking care, he just wanted to be on his way to the grocery store, happily picking up some TV dinners and coffee filters. 

Mikey starts to babble again and Gerard is seriously considering hanging up right the fuck now when, "Oomph!" 

This force fucking crashes into him and almost knocks him over. It's this really, really, really drunk looking girl and she's kinda giggling up at him and Mikey is asking Gerard if he tripped again and then Gerard is hitting the "end call" button and shoving his phone into his pocket as this tiny ass girl burps in his face and then goes totally limp in his arms and he isn't strong, he's kinda weak okay, he'll admit it. He's struggling to hold her small frame up and he's gasping for breath and he can't tell if it's because of the strain on his muscles or if it's because he's terrified this girl is gonna die right here in front of him. Oh my God, please don't fucking die oh my God. 

Gerard doesn't know what to do, he just doesn't. Art school didn't prepare him for this kind of shit, so he acts before he thinks and starts to kinda do this shuffle-drag thing down the sidewalk back to his house and gives a nervous smile and nod combination thing to the people glancing at them as they walk past. He's gonna be reported to the police. He's going to be arrested for kidnapping and drugging this poor girl and it's gonna be the end of his art career. 

Finally, after maybe 3 hours, or more like 10 minutes, but whatever, it took way too long and this girl is so small but she's like a rock, all dead weight and compact and rough edges and thank fucking God they are finally in his apartment because he thinks he's having a stroke, or at least an asthma attack, or something. 

He drops the girl- gently, or as gently as he can with shaking knees, onto the flimsy floorboards and finally gets a good look at her. She's kinda like Snow White in a way, all pale, lightly tanned skin and dark black hair, but that's where the resemblances end. She's small, but so far from dainty. She has these blotches and thick lines of dark ink all over her arms and up to her neck, and that's the only hint he gets to her age, she's definitely legal, although she could pass for 15 if she wanted to. She looks so peaceful, and Gerard has to check like five times at least to make sure she's still breathing because he cannot be tried in court for murder, or manslaughter, or even kidnapping. 

He doesn't really know what to do with her, so he just observes her. Then, being the genius that he is, he realizes that she probably has a cell phone. He carefully, so fucking carefully, fishes into her front pocket to look for a phone and- hell yes! He's got it and for a single moment everything is gonna work out, right? Yeah, no, because this is Gerard's life and obviously there's a fucking lock on the phone, but her background is cool. It's a logo for some band called Pencey Prep, it's a picture off a poster from some small venue he vaguely recognizes, he makes a mental note to ask Mikey if he's heard of the band before he realizes that wait, there is a human on the ground who is unconscious. He can't just leave her on the ground...can he? He shakes his head, no Gerard. 

So, here he is again, back to dragging this girls body, just like old times. It sounds much more morbid than it really is, it's actually kind of hilarious and he chuckles for a second until his lungs burn, because yeah, she's still heavy and he's still weak. He gets her to his room and half heartedly rolls her onto his bed somehow, he honestly doesn't know, it just happens. And now the girl is face down on his bed which is outfitted in these horrible, embarrassing, bright red rose floral sheets that Elena, his grandmother, made him take from her because he refused to buy any for himself. 

Gerard kinda stands there for a second and thinks, he's been doing that a lot today he realizes and he wonders if he should sleep on the couch, or on the floor in his room and then he has a realization that she could choke on her vomit in her sleep, right? Like, he's pretty sure that's a thing, so he runs into the kitchen, like practically fucking leaps and gets some water in case she wakes up and starts coughing or something, whatever. He places the glass on the side table and stands there again. He feels so dumb, like what is he supposed to even do? He decides not to sleep in case the aforementioned choking scenario happens and he pulls out one of his sketch books and starts sketching his favorite scene from Watchmen, again for like the third time. 

And now he waits...


	2. Probably Kidnapped

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frankie wakes up in a bed that's not her's and she's not positive, but she's pretty sure she's been kidnapped by the worst captor ever.

The first thing Frankie notices when she wakes up is that this is definitely not her bed, it's not even Hambone's bed. The only way she can tell it's not  _for sure_ hers before she opens her eyes is because it doesn't smell like the cheap, off brand cigarettes that she's forced to smoke with her minimum wage job. It smells like Marlboro's and the heady smell of unwashed boy and- ew, what the fuck is that stain? She almost can't even see it through her half peeked open eye because of the sickeningly floral pattern on the bed. Where the fuck did she crash last night?

The second thing Frankie notices is how fucking bad her head hurts. This is maybe, probably, for sure **the worst** hangover she's had yet. This even rivals the one she got after she played her first show and that one was killer. Go damn, the room is dark, but not nearly dark enough for her taste at the moment. The streams of sunlight filtering through the slats of the closed blinds might as well be her kryptonite. 

She finally forces her neck up and scoots, sitting her back against the headboard as she moves her eyes around the cluttered room and Frankie is pretty sute she found the reason why all the "Save the Trees!" campaigns even exist in the first place. The room is blanketed in sketch after sketch, half drawn on pieces of paper are crumpled and strewn everywhere. Stacks of comics, art books and grimy sketch pads lye halfheartedly on a desk (maybe it's a desk? Honestly, from the way it looks, it might be just a pile of trash). 

Frankie leans forward and picks up a haphazardly drawn comic panel and holy fuck it's a female rendition of Judge Dread and now she really has to find out where she is so she can compliment the artist because woah.

Suddenly, there's a small sniffle from the corner of the room and Frankie's hangover is like fucking bat sonar because she pinpoints him faster than she can blink. Oh fuck, it's a boy, well a man really but Frankie's heart stops because oh my God, she's definitley been kidnapped and what if she was clubbed and that's why her head hurts so bad? Jesus Christ, this is where she's gonna die, on these dumb floral sheets, at the hands of an absolute nerd. 

Frankie stares at the guy, he's fucking asleep, all curled in on himself. Worst kidnapper _ever_ , she thinks to herself. There's an empty pack of cigarettes and an ashtray full of the butts on the floor in front of him. And Frankie like, can't stop starring because he's pretty, like girl pretty. All long eyelashes and soft, milky skin that Frankie just itches to touch, his hair is black, shaggy and kinda greasy but Frankie's pretty sure she's into it. She has to stop to remind herself that she's not here to fuck and that he likely kidnapped her when she was unsuspecting and drunk. 

She breaks her gaze and coughs carefully, once, than twice. clearing her shitty lungs of all that morning goo. She does it one more time, just a little louder, almost daring him to wake up- and he does, because suddenly he's blinking the sleep from his eyes and pulling himself up from the floor and he starts talking almost instantaneously,

"Oh, hey, thank God, I tho-"

And then she's shrieking. Frankie starts screaming, high pitch as loud as she can and she starts just throwing fucking anything she can. She rips the alarm clock from the socket and hits his shoulder with it.

"What the fuck?" He forces out, wincing and rubbing his shoulder.

Frankie doesn't fucking stop screaming and throwing paper, comics, pens, markers, fucking _anything_ she can reach and she's so god dam loud even though her head hurts like a bitch. Then she takes off like a bullet, running out of the bedroom and down the hall and all around his tiny apartment. Her lungs fucking burn and her vision is going all spotty and fuzzy at the edges when she hears it behind her. That greasy boy is actually chasing after her and they are like a tornado, spinning around gracelessly in his messy apartment and he finally pounces on her, tackling her and pinning her to the dirty carpet.

The guy starts screaming right back at Frankie, giving her back exactly what she is giving him. Frankie thrashes and hits him, still screaming and the sound is so strong because this is what her fucking voice was _made for_ , going on forever with these loud unabashed noises. There's no way in hell he can beat her at her own game.

frank does feel maybe a little twinge of guilt after his nose starts bleeding though, and after forever probably they finally stop and there's silence enveloping them. He still has her body pinned down though and he's glaring at her harshly. She's never been so aware of every point of contact she's made with someone's skin until now, she feels likes she's gonna crawl out of her own chest with the feel of him on top of her and she stills her thrashing limbs.

He sits back on his knees, legs still bracketing her lower thighs and wipes the blood from his nose on his sleeve. She hopes it isn't broken, that would be a damn shame.

"So," he starts hesitantly, voice fucking _wrecked,_ "want any coffee?"

And Frankie just _melts_ and nods _yesyesyes_ because fuck yes she would _love_ coffee, oh my God. The guy gets up off her and she can finally let out a breath she didn't know she had been holding in. He walks into the kitchen and she follows suit. The boy rips a paper towel off the role and twists it tightly, sticking it up his nose to plug the blood. He starts a fresh pot of coffee and Frankie is practically shaking with excitement over some god damn coffee.

When it's finally brewed, he hands her a paint chipped beige mug and she takes the longest, most satisfyingly burning sip, not even waiting for it to cool and drinking it straight black. She savors the bitterness on her tongue and lets it wave through her. This is the exact moment when Frankie decides that being a captive to this guy might not be the worst if there's coffee this good involved, she decides to just accept this new life with the weirdly pretty, dirty boy who has gross flowery sheets, but really fucking good coffee.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much to everyone who's read this, bookmarked, left me kudos and talked to me about it on tumblr! i love y'all!


	3. Everybody Talks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gerard tries to explain that he isn't a criminal and he is definitely not holding Frankie captive.

"So," Gerard starts, not quite sure how to finish or even begin to explain, he flails his hands around a little, looking for a starting point, "my name is Gerard Way." he finally settles on that, deciding starting with his name is good enough.

"You really are a dumb ass." Frankie mutters, blowing smoke out of the corner of her mouth and tapping the ash of her cigarette off into her empty coffee cup. Her voice is a little nasally, a little rough around the edges and a little husky from the smoke. He loves it.

 "Excuse me?" Gerard asks, voice a nervous whisper, chipping away at the crumbly black nail polish on his index finger.

"If you're trying to kidnap me you're doing a hell of a job, pal. I mean, first you fall asleep and now you're telling me your name. Even I've seen enough movies to know that's not how this is supposed to go." Frankie smirks and Gerard just stares at her, mouth hung open in shock. She's rude, unabashed and every sentence seems to end with a quirk of her pierced bottom lip.

"Oh my God, no, no, no," Gerard can't even pick between laughing at this ridiculous girl or cowering over how forward she is. "I didn't kidnap you, you literally fell on me and then passed out! I didn't know what to do." all of Gerard's words are running together in his frazzled state and now Frankie is just laughing at him in disbelief, a brazen laugh that's too loud for someone this hungover. 

"So that's the story you're going with Gerard?" the name is foreign on her tongue as it rolls off, it feels heavy and uncomfortable. Gerard practically leaps out of his seat at the small kitchen table and starts pacing around the linoleum on the dated kitchen floor.

"It's the fucking truth! I was on my way to the store and you just ran into me and like breathed in my face and I thought you were gonna die, so I had to drag you all the way back to my apartment, like literally dragged." His hands are flailing wildly by now, his voice pitching up slightly as his nerves take over, "I tried to call someone on your phone but it was locked and I was so scared I thought you were gonna like, choke on your vomit in your sleep, I think that can happen, right? So I tried to stay up as late-" he rambled until Frankie finally cut him off, _thank God_ , he thought, he would be talking all night at this rate.

"Okay, Christ, I believe you. Just stop talking for like, two seconds and take a damn breath." She said dryly, flicking her cigarette butt into the mug. Gerard sat back down across from her, crossing and uncrossing his hands in his lap. He never knew what to do and he was pretty sure she already hated him and he didn't know why that fact made him a little sad.

It was really quiet for a few moments and Gerard was so anxious he was practically squeezing his wrists to death just to feel something besides the silence until finally, Frankie let out a heavy sigh and said-

"I'm Frankie Iero by the way." Her eyes burned into his as she said it, almost as a dare to meet her hard gaze. Gerard was so intimidated by it he couldn't bring himself to look up yet.

"Gerard Way." He muttered again, eyes finally reaching her wide hazel ones. Frankie smirked, it was like her own personal game, making him squirm and repeat himself like this.

"Sorry I, uh- fucked your apartment up, and your alarm clock. I 'll buy you a new one." She offered, shrugging, voice suddenly softer. She rubbed her neck with her hand awkwardly. Her tone was so distinct and so much gentler from the previous standoff-ish facade she had assumed earlier.

"S'okay, I didn't really use it anyway." Gerard felt so, so, so uncomfortable. He'd rather go back to the screaming and throwing things because at least it wasn't thick with this silence.

"Um, thank you Gerard," she said finally after a long beat, the more she said his name out loud, the more she felt like it was coming home, like seeing your best friend after a week apart. She finally dropped her stare to her lap and added, "I'm such a bitch, I just woke up and screamed and threw shit at you and I accused you of kidnapping me, I-I just," she broke off as Gerard signed and ran his hand through his greasy mess of black hair, chuckling softly to himself. She gave him an intense glare of confusion mixed with an edge of something that seemed to say 'I will not hesitate to fight you if you're making fun of me.'

"This entire situation is kind of hilarious actually," Gerard said, smile still playing on his lips. Frankie was shaking her head as if to disagree but a smile was starting to form on her lips, lip ring clicking cooly against the bottom row of her teeth, threatening to expose her amusement. "Like, if you think about it, just how ridiculous it is. I mean, I had to drag you down the block. You fucking threw shit at me, I-" they both finally just lost it, laughs lapping over each other. 

Gerard's laugh, honking, loud and unattainable overlapped by Frankie's, all giggly, high-pitched and uninhibited. Her head was thrown back, eyes closed and finally they calmed down, breathing slowing back to normal.

"Want me to take you back home Frankie?" He asked, testing her name out in his mouth, the way it formed, it was all jagged edges, and slightly nasal- just like her, The thought made him smile. 

"If you want, that'd be cool." She mumbled, smile still playing on her lips. She stood and placed her mug in the sink. "You got any pain killers though? My headache is killer." Gerard nodded and reached for the bottle of Tylenol in the upper left hand cabinet.

***

"Fuckin' love this album!" Frankie cried, holding up a Bad Religion album as she continued thumbing through Gerard's CD Collection in his clunker of a car. "Oh, what's this?" She asked, holding up a silver blank CD that'd been scratched to hell.

"S'just an old mix I made a few years ago. Mainly Black Flag, Misfits, The Pumpkins, usual shit." He muttled off, starting the car down the road Frankie had rattled off the instructions to.

Frankie hummed approvingly as she shoved the CD into the player and thrashed her head along with the music, half screaming, half singing the words to each song.

"Um, Pencey Prep? That your band?" Gerard muttered after he turned the music down a little, "I saw the logo on your phone last night, looked cool." Frankie's eyes widened and she nodded her head vigorously, she looked like she'd just won the damn lottery.

"We're gonna make it big soon, I fucking swear. " she said surely, she was so confident Gerard almost believed her, "We're good, lotta potential. I sing and play guitar." Frankie rambled happily, smile so wide Gerard swore her lip was gonna split, "You should see us play soon Gee." She offered, testing the waters with a nickname. Gerard tensed a little, surprised at how comfortable with her he was.

***

Gerard pulled up to a brick single family home. It wasn't in the worst neighborhood, but it was far from the best.

"How old are you Frankie?" He kept his voice thin and emotionless, staring blankly at the windshield. 

"19," she mumbled, crossing her arms over herself, suddenly uncomfortable, "the owner of that club you picked me up at paid us for the show in beer." She explained Defensively. 

 _Well at least she wasn't 17,_ Gerard thought.

After one of the more awkward silences of the morning- and that was saying something, finally, after a painful minute or so, Frankie huffed out a breath she had forgotten she was holding and said,

"So...You should give me your number," Gerard froze, she was still so young, "you know, so I can like, tell you when my next show is." Frankie giggled awkwardly, blush spreading to her cheeks lightly.

"Yeah, 'course." Gerard nodded, cheeks burning as he fumbled for a Sharpie in his pocket. He scrawled his number messily on Frankie's forearm, adding a little 'gee's #' next to it just in case she forgot. 

"Sweet. Thanks Gerard, you're really cool ya know?" He felt his face flame at the compliment and he ducked his head down, embarrassed. 

"Not a big deal Frankie, I'm glad I did it." now it was Frankie's turn to blush as she quickly kissed him on the cheek and exited the car, waving but not turning back to look at the bright crimson Gerard had begun to flush. 

"Bye to you too Frankie." He barely knew this girl, she was terrifying, still a teenager and in a band, she was everything Gerard was against and he wanted her more than air. Fuck his life honestly. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so much for reading!!! I've planned out up to chapter 19 (which isn't even the end yet) so thank you!!!!


	4. Don't Leave Me Hanging on the Telephone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gerard is NOT pining, and he definitely didn't come from hearing Frankie say his name.

It had been two days since the "incident," Gerard kept trying not to think about her and her short black mop of hair and how it looked like she'd just grown out a fo-hawk and a shotty dye job. Gerard also _really_ tried not to think about her sleepy looking hazel eyes or her arms full of ink and he _really really_ tried- and he _really_ did, try not to think about her pierced bottom lip. But Gerard definitely **had not**   drawn Frankie at all... okay, maybe once but that was it, and the little doodles he did of her tattoo's didn't count either right? Because those weren't _technically_ her. he wasn't gonna do the whole "pining" thing, he wasn't gonna spend days just waiting for her to call him back because that was just desperate and Gerard had at least that much dignity left.

Except for the part where he didn't.

Gerard needed to breathe, or maybe stop breathing and just save himself all of the gross, messy embarrassment. Frankie still hadn't called and okay, maybe he was a little disappointed, but she also hadn't said she would even call, or when, for that matter, if she did. Gerard had convinced himself that Frankie didn't really want him to come to her show or hang out or anything, he was just trying to be nice. Frankie probably felt bad for Gerard or something- it wasn't hard to tell from the looks of him that he hadn't dated, or even been out of his apartment in a while.

Gerard wasn't waiting by his phone, nope, he sure wasn't. He didn't fumble in his pocket every time he got a new text or call and he didn't do that whole thing where he just stared at his phone for hours on end, 'cause that shit's just creepy.

Nope, he did absolutley none of these things, and he was fine, in fact, Gerard was just peachy.

Actually, he's pretty sure all of his hair is going to fall out if he thinks about this girl for one more damn second. He doesn't even know why he's so strung out over this girl anyway, what made her so much more special than any other girl? She was rude, and she broke his alarm clock, not to mention, his hearing is probably shot to hell from all her screaming. But God, there's just something about her that makes him feel so alive already. Frankie was bitchy and abrasive but- no Gerard needs to stop, now he's pining and we already said we weren't gonna pull that sappy bull shit. Gerard needs to pull himself together, but he also needs to finish inking The last few panels of his new comic strip idea- it'a about cats, Gerard really likes cats.

 ***

A few hours, three cigarettes and two and a half black coffee's later and Gerard finally finished inking the last panel And according to his watch it's only 8:30PM and now it's definitely time to relax. 

Gerard rakes his hand through his mess of hair and flops down on his bed, he still hasn't washed his sheets so it smells like Frankie and before his brain can say, "Stop Gerard don't do it!" He's  reaching an ink stained hand down his pants and leaning into his pillow to capture her scent. 

"Fuck." Gerard murmurs as he wraps his hand around his half hard dick, it doesn't take much more to get him fully hard, just more thoughts of Frankie and her ridiculously calloused fingers and how they'd feel wrapped around his length, throbbing and leaking pre-come all over her hand. Gerard pictures himself fingering Frankie's tight little cunt and he's so fucking close, hips snapping up on their own accord when his phone fucking rings and he has to check because what if it's Frankie? And guess what, of fucKing course it's Frankie!  He fumbles for it with one hand, the other hand barely ghosting his cock, and he answers the phone. 

"H-hello?" Gerard can barely get the words out. 

"This Gerard?" Frankie's voice is all nails and thumbtacks, rough around the edges and so hot and Gerard barely chokes back a fucking moan as his hand starts jacking himself again on its own accord. 

"Mm-mmhmm, this Frankie?" He asks, eyes half lidded, mind glazed over. 

"Yeah, hey. I just wanted to say thanks and um, my band, we have a show Friday, I don't know,bits nota big thing but, I was wondering if you'd come?" And Gerard nearly fucking does come right then and there, he lets out this dumb little squeak and Frankie giggle all high and light and Gerard is trying so hard not to bust a fucking nut right now it's ridiculous. 

"That'd be, yeah I'd, that'd be cool." Gerard finally gets out of his dumb mouth. 

"I'll text you the address then, it's at 7:00. I'm glad you can make it Gee." She adds quietly, his name almost a breath and Gerard murmurs out a 'goodbye' he thinks and then he's hanging up and coming so hard, pumping his dick through it and come gets everywhere, but it's the best fucking orgasmed he's had in forever. 

"I am so fucked" he mutters before he passes out. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I've never written any smut before ??? It's not a lot or anything but I plan on PLENTY more for you guys in the future. Sorry the update took a little bit, school has been a bitch with graduation coming up.   
> Thank you so much for the kudos and just for reading, it means a lot!!! 
> 
> The title of the chapter is from a song but I totally blanked on who it's by, I'm pretty sure it's a great song though.


	5. Trying to Escape the Inevitable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "What'd you think Gerard?" She's all teeth, grinning from ear to ear, voice rough and wrecked. Gerard's knees won't stop shaking. 
> 
> "I, um-I um- good, very good, great." He stutters out finally, nodding, blush so bright against his skin he's sure she can see it even in the shoddy lighting. He feels so fucking dumb but then there's Frankie's giggle, all high and strained. Gerard is absolutely 190% sure he's going to collapse.

Gerard looks at the phone in his hands, debating on calling his brother or not. Sure, Mikey is great, he's his brother after all, but he's also maybe the biggest pain in the ass known to man, mostly because he's always right- always. Nevermind that he's the younger brother, he just always seems to have shit figured out, that's the main reason Gerard hits the "call" button before he can talk himself out of it. 

Mikey picks up on the third ring and the words are out of Gerard's mouth before he can even mutter the mundane company greeting he's been forced to memorize. 

"Mikey, I have a problem." 

"Oh Christ, what is it?" Gerard can hear papers shuffling around and the beep of a copier somewhere. 

"Okay, so, there-There's this girl and-" 

"Fuck, give me a minute Gerard." There's a clopping sound like Mikey just dropped the phone haphazardly on the desk and Gerard flinches. A few minutes pass and gerard is pretty sure he's picked all the skin off his raw looking cuticles when Mikey finally picks the phone back up. 

"Where'd you go?" 

"Coffee. If I can't listen to this wasted, I might as well have some coffee." He sounds bored, but Mikey has to listen to Gerard, he's his brother, it's like a fucking rule or something. 

"Am I interrupting work?"

"No," it sounds like a lie but then he continues, "tell me about her Gee." 

So he does, he tells Mikey all about how Frankie breathed in his face all drunk and half conscience and the whole screaming incident and how she invited him to her show tonight. Gerard leaves out the part of the story where he jacked off because there's some things even Mikey doesn't need to know. 

"...And the problem is?" There's a clacking like Mikey is typing on a keyboard. 

"C'mon Mikes, do I really need to tell you the whole story again?" Mikey blows air out of his mouth. 

"Like, okay," the clacking stops, " I know you're awkward as fuck, but she seems kinda into you. Maybe stringy haired, awkward artists are her type?" He's smiling as he says the last part. 

"I barely know her damn name, I can't just ask her out." 

"Go to the show, get to know her." Mikey says in a voice daring him to argue with him again. 

"Okay" Gerard hears the defeat in his own voice. 

"Tell me I'm the best." Gerard can practically see Mikey smirking as he kicks his gangly legs up onto his desk, twirling a pen in his hand. 

"No, I'm not here to give you a confidence boost you dick, go ask Kristen for that." 

"Love you Gee."

"You too Mikey." The line goes dead. 

***

Gerard is stressing okay? He's pretty sure he is actually more prepared to see a fucking dinosaur outside his door right now than be face to face with Frankie again. It's the day of the show and Gerard doesn't know what the fuck to wear. When did he become such a chick? He said he wasn't gonna do the whole pining thing and here he is, in front of three piles of laundry in varying stages of filth and shades of black.

Mikey won't come to the show with him, Gerard had fucking pleaded on his hands and knees, even, but Mikey had just muttered something about Gerard needing to get some balls and having to go over to Ma's with Kristen, his fiancé. So, Gerard is on his own and dreading it. Come to think of it, he really wishes there was a dinosaur outside his apartment right now because maybe it'd eat him and save him from embarrassment. 

He changes like five times and he looks like a gross lump in everything. Finally though, he settles on the fitted black jeans that have the least amount of paint splotches etched into the fabric and a tee shirt he thinks could have been a Danzig shirt at one point or another but has been washed and worn so many times it's just kinda covered with little beigey splotches here and there with a few tiny holes around his stomach where he can see the paleness of his skin breaking through, violent and contrasting with the rest of the black. 

He slips on some old decaying Chucks and an equally battered leather jacket and now he's just standing in his living room feeling really dumb because he still has an hour before he can leave according to his Batman wall clock. Gerard feels really fucking dumb for being so, so, just ugh! Over this girl he barely knows, when did this become his life? Jesus Christ, she's practically a stranger to him, all he knows is that he really, really wants to find out what all the colorful ink on her body means and maybe he wants to kiss her, like a lot. 

Gerard paces for what seems like ever and draws a little, listens to this one super sappy playlist he made about Frankie that features a live version of Radiohead's "Creep" (he won't admit it, but he definitely did scream the words and pretended he was singing it to her). By the time he looks at the clock again he's 15 minutes late and bolting out the door, dropping his keys twice after he remembers to lock his apartment. He sprints to the subway praying he won't be too late. 

***

When Gerard gets to the venue Frankie is already on stage, all scraped up knees and electric presence. He's hooked instantly. He fights the crowd to get to the backstage area, running into like twenty people because he can't stop looking at her, she's glowing, radiating passion and sweating buckets. 

Once Gerard gives his name to the intimidatingly large man guarding the door to the backstage area and he's let in, he can see Frankie infinitely better, she's breathtaking. He doesn't look away, he can't, it's like all the air in the entire world has been depleted and he can't even breathe.

Gerard is pretty sure death is getting close when Frankie tumbles off stage and she's left standing toe to toe with Gerard. When did she get so close? 

"What'd you think Gerard?" She's all teeth, grinning from ear to ear, voice rough and wrecked. Gerard's knees won't stop shaking. 

"I, um-I um- good, very good, great." He stutters out finally, nodding, blush so bright against his skin he's sure she can see it even in the shoddy lighting. He feels so fucking dumb but then there's Frankie's giggle, all high and strained. Gerard is absolutely 190% sure he's going to collapse. 

"Ow," Frankie flinches as this man? (Or monster?) punches her in the arm, "hey this is Bob!" 

Bob is a literal giant. 

"You Gerard?" He quips. Gerard nods, terrified he's going to be beaten up. "Frankie won't shut the fuck up about you." Frankie growls and it's definitely not the hottest thing Gerard has ever heard, or that's what he tells himself. She elbows Bob hard in the gut, the guy even fucking flinches, but he's still chucking with his head thrown back, he grabs Gerard by the arm and he can tell it's probably gonna be a nasty bruise tomorrow. 

Bob mutters something about the bar and Gerard is pretty sure if he still drank he would be beyond wasted already, but he doesn't anymore, and he says so out loud, but he doesn't know if he's talking more to himself or Bob. He just grunts something that sounds vaguely like "Okay" and Gerard orders himself a Diet Coke. 

Once they have their drinks and settle themselves into a corner booth it gets awkward. Bob looks like he's thinking for a moment before he talks. 

"Thanks for taking care of Frankie the other night. Little shit's a fuckin' handful sometimes." He sounds mean the way he says it, but his face looks too fond. 

"No problem, I just, I know I'd want someone to do it for me." Bob nods like he gets it and they talk for a while about Pencey Prep and music in general. Then Bob gets this serious expression on his face. 

"I like you Gerard, don't fuck it up." Gerard is kinda really confused, but then Frankie is stumbling over to the booth and Bob smoothly slides out. Gerard is left alone, sober and with a lapful of Frankie Iero and a face full of sweaty hair that smells like hairspray and stale whiskey. He breathes it in, savoring it. 

"Hey." Her voice is all syrupy and slow.

"Hi Frankie." She giggles, his knees would buckle if he was standing. 

"I'm sorry, 'm drunk again." She's whispering against his hair. 

"It's okay. I'm glad to see you." He smiles, he means it. 

"I like your face," Gerard blushes. When she leans into kiss him he pushes her back. 

"No Frankie, not now." His voice shakes. Resolve weakening. 

"'M tired Gee." She's so fucking gone now, giggling into his neck. 

She whispers something into his hair and starts sucking on his neck. It's all teeth and tongue, nipping and biting, licking the spot over with her warm tongue. Gerard fucking whimpers like a little girl when she blows cool air onto the spot, she sighs his name before attacking his lips and licking the seam of them, pushing her tongue through and Gerard can't, he really can't fucking do this right now. 

He shoves her away from him and he's so fucking breathless from whatever the hell that was. Both of them are panting. 

"No Frankie, you need to go home."

"You're no fun." She crosses her arms across her chest and scrambles off his lap, getting lost in the crowd.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for taking forever! I have like two more chapters written out but I'm lazy and I don't always feel like typing them. Sorry sorry sorry!!! 
> 
> I hope you like it, I'm graduating on the 24 so !!!! 
> 
> Title of chapter From the song of the same name by pencey prep. 
> 
> Hmu on Tumblr: thrilliero.tumblr.com


	6. It's an Underdog Story

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Jesus fuck,” Frankie groans, half awake and fully annoyed, “why do I keep waking up here?” She kind of really wants to just die- and she might given the amount of embarrassment she’s feeling right now. Frankie definitely wasn’t that drunk last night, no way, she doesn’t feel nearly hungover enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey! today was my last day of high school!! fucking weird man. ugh. I have so much shit to do before college bc i'm moving to florida and ughhhhh. Graduation is Sunday though!
> 
> hmu on tumblr: thrilliero.tumblr.com
> 
> i've been thinking of writing another fic as well, with deaf artist gerard and punk frank?? idk how do yall feel about that? 
> 
> also, this is un betad and un proofread bc im so tired, sorry !

“Jesus fuck,” Frankie groans, half awake and fully annoyed, “why do I keep waking up here?” She kind of really wants to just die- and she might given the amount of embarrassment she’s feeling right now. Frankie definitely wasn't that drunk last night, no way, she doesn't feel nearly hungover enough.

 

She sits up, slouching on her elbows, and there’s Gerard, lying on the floor, again. He’s snoring softly. Frankie lets out a breath and just takes his form in. He’s all pale skin, smoothed out edges, long deft artist’s fingers and shaggy black, greasy hair that’s more than a few days over do for a shampoo- she loves it.

 

Frankie gets up, pokes him in the side with pointed toes. He scrunches his face up and honestly, it’s probably the cutest thing she’s ever seen.

 

“Wake up you dick, lemme say thank you.” He pops open a golden-y hazel eye, rimmed with deep purple leaning bags and beams up at her. He stretches his back out on the floor like a cat, she thinks he’s beautiful, her cheeks flame.

                                                                                                    

“Coffee.” Gerard mumbles, getting up finally and following Frankie into the kitchen. She perches herself on a stool at the breakfast bar and leans her head on her hands, grinning as he flips on the coffee maker. It’s all so domestic- waking up and making fucking coffee, she savors the thought for a minute, humming contently to herself. Frankie watches Gerard, observing his little habits, like the way one side of his mouth is always quirking up when he talks, or how he’s always doing something with his hands (namely touching that pretty fucking face she wishes she could knock the smirk off of). God, his hands. Frankie was in too deep already, fuck her life.

 

“Frankie, coffee?” Gerard mumbles, garnering her attention away from her dumb thoughts for once. His voice is thick with stale smoke and sleep. She nods quickly, taking the mug from him. This feels like last time, minus all the screaming and the broken alarm clock.

 

After a few minutes of arguable comfortable silence, he places his half empty mug on the counter and does that awkward thing he’s always doing where he messes with the raw skin on his fingers which makes Frankie think about his goddamn hands again and now she’s blushing. Great.

 

“About last night…” he starts, eyes not meeting hers- okay fuck, maybe Frankie was a little more than tipsy because yeah, now she definitely remembers what went down last night. It’s a little fuzzy, but she works out that she somehow ended up in Gerard’s lap, and she- “you kissed me, Frankie.” Gerard states flatly. Frankie groans.

 

Yep, there it is, there’s the zinger that cements her in place as that ‘creepy drunk party girl’ everyone knows. She remembers the kiss, how could she not? She remembers the way he tasted, how she pulled his hair a little and then she remembers how he pushed her off of him. Frankie was wrong when she thought she wanted to die earlier- it was now, now was definitely the moment she should die.

 

“Fuck, I’m so sorry.”

 

“S’okay.” Gerard shrugs, waving it away.

 

“No, it’s really fucking not. I keep pulling this dumb shit around you and ruining your nights.” Frankie’s coffee is abandon now, cold. “I’m not just a drunk party girl, I swear.”

 

Gerard laughs softly, shaking his head, “You didn’t ruin my night, I just,-“

 

“You don’t have to make excuses for me Gerard, I’m a grown up, I can take responsibility for my damn actions.”

 

“No, no, no, listen to me Frankie. It’s just, I’m a mess at the moment and I don’t really know you very well. I’m not a ‘hump and dump’ kinda guy.” Frankie snorts at that, how can she not? The last time she heard anyone say ‘hump and dump’ seriously out loud was probably in middle school. He waits for her to finish, then continues, “Don’t get me wrong, I’d really like to- get to know you, that is, but we’ve only talked like four times now, and I have a lot of shit in my head that’s kinda fucked up and-“

 

“Gerard.”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Shut the fuck up.”  


“I, uh, yeah, okay.”

 

“Listen, I’m sorry I tried to tongue fuck you, or regular fuck you, whichever, last night. That was really dumb and lame of me,” he opens his mouth to dispute her, but she silences him with a hand, “thank you for everything Gerard- really.” Gerard hums a response around a sip of coffee, “I think we should be friends Gerard.” Frankie grits her teeth through the words, wanting to just press him up against a wall and lick his stupid mouth open, fuck barely knowing him, but she doesn’t.

 

Frankie looks up and Gerard is smiling that smile that should look really goofy with his tiny teeth but he looks kinda hot. Frankie can’t even be mad, not when Gerard is happy.

 

“Okay.” He says finally.

 

“You make really good coffee, Gee.” He meets her gaze with another dumb grin and sticks some stale looking Pop Tarts into the toaster. “You were really good last night- I mean your band.” He says awkwardly, clearing his throat. He’s blushing so fucking much, she wants to kiss his stupidly pink cheeks.

 

“Thanks, I think we’re really gonna make it one day.” She’s beaming, Frankie's passive about too many things, but music is for sure not one of them. She throws herself into it, head first and anyone who’s talked to Frankie for more than five minutes probably knows.

 

 Gerard nods an agreement and hands Frankie one of the Pop Tarts.

 

“Worm seems really great.”

 

“Yeah, him and Hambone have been my best friends since middle school.”

 

“Was Worm still a giant back then too?” Frankie snorts out a ridiculous laugh and Gerard honks out an equally weird one, impressed with his joke obviously.

 

“Actually, he was a scrawny little thing. Shrimpy as hell.” Gerard can’t stop laughing because that’s an impossible picture. “We only actually became friends because he said I was the only girl who had good taste in comics, then he tried to kiss me, so I beat him up and Hambone was the one that tried to split us up.” Gerard actually chokes on his Pop Tart, his face turns purple for a second, he’s coughing so hard. “See, some of my best friendships come from premature kissing.” She giggles all high and light.

 

“What comics do you like?” Frankie finally says after the flaming of Gerard’s cheeks die down. He instantly perks up, and sits in the stool next to her.

 

“I’m partial to Watchmen, also Batman.” He says eagerly, smiling.

 

“Okay, Watchmen is great, I’ll give you that, but Batman- ugh what a bitch.” Gerard literally slams his mug down on the counter.

 

“Excuse me?” He has a stoic expression, like he’s pissed. Jesus Christ, it’s a comic, chill.

 

“He’s just some rich kid, his money is his only super power.”

  
“It’s an underdog story.”

 

“Bullshit, and you know it.”

 

“Fine, what’s your favorite superhero if you’re so fucking smug?”

 

“Spiderman.”

 

“Oh God.” He drops his head in his hands. What the fuck is wrong with Spiderman? “I can’t even argue with you, I mean yeah, Batman’s the shit, but Spiderman is pretty fucking rad. Goddammit Frankie, couldn’t you say something like Superman?” Their both laughing because Superman is for sure the absolute worst superhero ever invented.

 

“I’m the whole package, Gee, get used to it.” Frankie swears if Gerard blushes one more time she’s not gonna be responsible for her actions.

 

“I should go.” She whispers, half hoping he misses it, “Don’t wanna overstay my welcome, you might get sick of me.” She shrugs, half smiling.

 

“Impossible” Gerard is almost too quick to answer, waving his hand dramatically.

 

“Call me Gerard, we’ll get lunch sometime.” Frankie stands and locates her shoes, pulling them on and texting Hambone to come pick her sorry ass up.

 

“I could take you home Frankie, it’s no big deal.” He looks genuinely disappointed when she shakes her head and assures him that Hambone owes her breakfast for breaking her E string the other day. He probably asks her if she’s sure twenty times and it takes long enough that Hambone actually pulls up to Gerard’s building and honks. Twice.

 

There’s a sudden silence that settles over the two of them and Frankie shuffles forward and wraps her arms around Gerard’s frame. He’s soft in the right places and she feels his breathing halt and he stiffens before relaxing into her. She finally pulls away- she doesn’t want to though, like ever.

 

“Bye Frankie.” Gerard whispers, lips quirked into that half smile that makes Frankie weak in the knees.

 

“Bye Gee.” She whispers back. She kisses Gerard on the cheek and mutters, “call me later tonight, I wanna talk” against his ear before she walks outside, flipping Hambone off and yelling at him to shut the fuck up when he honks again.

 

Gerard is alone in his messy apartment, blushing like an idiot and everything smells like Frankie.

 

It was a good morning. 

**Author's Note:**

> I posted this on my lj the other day and figured ao3 was easier. Tell me what you think pals !!!


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